


Bound Together

by Persiflage



Series: Bondkink Fics [7]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Character Study, Cuddling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Introspection, Missing Scene, Older Woman/Younger Man, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-14
Updated: 2012-12-14
Packaged: 2017-11-21 03:01:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/592702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even Bond needs to get some rest on the long drive to Skyfall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bound Together

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the bondkink comm on LJ. The prompt was _I don't care how vanilla this is: During the trip to Scotland there's a scene of M waking up in the car, taking off her blanket while Bond stands outside - I only ask for a missing scene from the night before, Bond cuddling with M for warm. No sex. Just them snug together like puzzle pieces, back to chest, hands intertwined. Bond brooding over his own possessive feelings towards the woman, once M falls sleeps, is also very welcome._  
>  Spoilers: Skyfall  
> Disclaimer: I'm profitless...

"You ought to stop soon and get some rest, Bond," M observes quietly.

He glances across at her, noting how wan she's looking in this poor light. She's swaddled in a tartan blanket because it's so cold, and she looks like someone's harmless grandmother. He knows she's not.

"Yeah," he says, because he knows she's right: he's definitely starting to flag after his long day, and Silva's attempts to kill him.

"We'd better not stop anywhere obvious, though."

He lifts his eyebrows, wondering if tiredness has addled her brain. "That's self-evident."

"Bond." 

It's funny, he thinks, how she can invest so much meaning into just his name. Or maybe it's just that they've known each other for so long that she doesn't need to say more. 

He drives in silence for a few more miles until he sees a suitable spot: there's room to pull the car off the road where it'll be screened by some bushes, and nearby there's a stream where they can freshen up after a fashion.

He pulls the car in off the road, and they both climb out, stiff with sitting for so long in the cramped car. He gets a bundle of twigs and binds them together to create a make-shift brush, which he uses to wipe out their tyre tracks. When he's finished, he turns around and has a moment of panic because he can't see M, then he spots her moving towards the stream and exhales silently.

He delves into the boot and grabs a heavy duty torch, another blanket for himself, and the sandwiches he bought when he stopped for fuel a couple of hours ago.

When M returns, the blanket wrapped around her shoulders Native American style, he has to bite back a smile: she looks incongruous, but there's still a hint of the familiar steely determination in her eyes.

"We'll be better off if we huddle up together on the back seat," he observes.

One eyebrow goes up, but she doesn't object, just gives him a terse nod. He opens the driver's door and tilts his seat forward, then climbs in and stretches out on his side as best he can on the too-small seat. She climbs in and stretches out in front of him. He reaches out an arm and pulls the door closed.

"It's all right for you," he says, "you – "

"Don't say I'm short," she cuts in.

"I was going to say you don't have long legs," he says.

She humphs, but doesn't say any more as he wraps the blankets around them as best he can. He's taken aback when she pulls his arms around her middle, and even more surprised when she laces her fingers through his, just below her breasts. But he stays silent.

007-007-007

M falls asleep quite quickly, but Bond remains awake for a while longer, listening to her breathe and taking comfort from the practical, no-nonsense way she's been behaving. He bitterly regrets not having killed Silva whom he considers is behaving like a spoilt brat rather than a former Double-0 agent. What happened to him in the Chinese jail is horrendous, but Bond's read the files and he believes M had no choice about the way she handled the situation, given how out of control Silva had become.

He feels fiercely protective of M: she's been a part of his life since he was in his teens and Six first recruited him. She saw potential in him which would otherwise have gone untapped, and he's been proud to serve her as well as his Queen and country. He knows such patriotism is largely derided as old-fashioned these days, but he doesn't care, his loyalty is too deeply engrained to be shifted now.

M stirs in her sleep and he hears her mutter something inaudible; he tightens his arms around her, willing her to remain asleep. He admires her strength of character, her tenacity, her no-nonsense attitude. He sees her pragmatism as sensible and necessary given how hard she must have had to fight to reach her position in a world where the Old Boys' Network undoubtedly still reigns supreme. He's seen the way the Old Boys have tried to diminish her achievements, but she never lets them get away with it: she's a diminutive powerhouse (just five feet one in her stockinged feet), with a whip-lash scorn and a withering retort that's reduced grown men to quivering wrecks. She's fiercely protective of all her staff, but especially the Double-0 agents, in whose ranks she was once numbered. He often wishes he'd known her in those days: he thinks they'd have made a formidable team, especially given her capacity to look so demure, which must have undone many an enemy agent at the time.

Silva, he decides, is going to bitterly regret messing with M and her best agent (and Bond knows that he's the best because she's told him so, and she is always sparing with her praise). 

He falls asleep with a smile on his face at the thought of the arse-kicking Silva is going to receive.


End file.
